Yesterday was a great day. I said to hell with the chores and spent the morn trying to fly while swatting at the fuggin hornets at Stubfart Airfield. I burnt 1/4 jug of nitro too… so I got some good airtime. As I was shutting down the wind kicked right up so I called the weather just right. Got back, did an extra long walk with the Niglet, then a few chores…and I’d just settled down for a late lunch around 3:30 when the phone went. Mom.
Great.
I had a great big Dagwood Bumstead Death Sammich going, a great camping vid on OyTube, and the pup snoozing by my chair. Mom had been especially shrewish with me the last little while and the last thing I needed on a perfect afternoon was to get nagged and badgered by that old bitch. Dammit - I had a perfect sammich too! “Go suck a fart!” I yelled in mock rage at the ringing phone. Mom could bitch at the voicemail. I needed a break.
I got a bite of the sammich… and then got all guilty and called mom 5 minutes later. I just needed to psych myself up first. Turns out the old bitch rolled an ankle out walking her dawg. She and one of her friends went down to Emergency. She got a sprained ankle, I got in supreme shit for not answering the phone, and mom made an absolute PITA of herself to the nurses and doctors at the clinic. I got so embarrassed, I tried to bribe one of the pretty nurses to give her a $1.00 green needle and she smiled sweetly and declined - but she offered to give me one for free.
😡
I’m going to be babysitting mom’s dawg and going over twice a day (or more) to check in for awhile. I’d hate for her to die and go to hell and miss the party, HAR HAR HAR HAR!
I jest! I kid! I’m getting the strong impression that my Maker is testing me so around mom I’ll mind my P’s n’ Q’s. There’s something I should be learning from all this, perhaps. I really can’t bitch, mom has some hired domestic servants to mow and do the odd household chores so there’ll be lots of eyes on her at least.
While I was in at the clinic with mom I really should have gotten the medicos to check my bung out. I have been farting like a race horse for three days now. My truck smells like an old pipe and a cabbage fart and poor mom would surely have died and gone to hell if she had to ride in it. It’s a fetid Dutch oven in there! Thank gawd the wife had her little RAV. If mom had to ride in the Dawgmobile I’d never hear the end of it!! I don’t bring this up to brag…but I find it odd: I’m getting a lot of ads popping up about how if you’re farting up a storm - it means you have an obscure but treatable malady that can be cured by some kind of snake oil they’re selling. How closely are our devices spying on us? Do they hear the Crack Of Doom, and start cranking out flatulence ads? It’s happened to me before… once I saw a striking garment that would have looked great on the wife…and I clicked on it… and then for the next month I was getting spammed with women’s fashions and clothing sales. It got so annoying I went on the Brave browser to filter that shite out! Might have to go back to it again…
Y’all keep smilin - and thanks for dropping in.
Cheers,
Filthie
my single greatest moment in life was when I was still a deckhand on an oil tanker. Hanging out in the galley in the evening, the 1st mate and I had roasted a couple of cloves of elephant garlic, and put that, blue cheese and a couple of slices of capicola on bread and chowed down. Later on that night, I farted in my sleep and set off the carbon monoxide alarm on the next deck up. Woke the whole ship up. The passageways for both decks smelled like a bible story.
ReplyDeleteAnd, I mean, you have a dog. If the car smells like ass and cabbage, you've got a 4-legged patsy standing by.
Oooooh, epic!
ReplyDelete